Email from hell
by Amanda-Krueger
Summary: Imagine writing e-mails to Freddy Krueger in hell. And imagine even getting an answer… What kind of pen-palship will grow out of this? R&R and have fun! UPDATE: CHAP11 UP!
1. First answer

Author's note: As usual I don't own Freddy Krueger or anything related to him. This is just a funny thing I thought about today. Don't know if this will turn out to be a good story. The email addresses are pure fictional, as least I hope so, so please, please don't use them in real! If you have any suggestions in which this weird email contact should develop or which questions Sarah should ask next just write me! And now have fun!!!

EMAIL FROM HELL

=====================

From: sarah@elmtreet.us

To: fred.krueger@hell.com

Dear Mr. Krueger (or may I say Freddy?),

My name is Sarah McAllister. I'm a sixteen year old teenager from Springwood. I live in 2235 Elm Street since my parents moved here for about six months. I heard many rumours about you, what you did when you were alive and even when you were dead already. I'm not sure if all this stuff I've been told is true, so I decided to ask you directly by writing this e-mail to you. Is it true that you slaughtered more than twenty kids over two years before police caught you? And that the parents burned you alive after you had been released from court due to some kind of illegal arrest? And this dream-thing, what's all about that? What are you doing if you're not in someone's dream hunting and killing? I hope that you can and will answer my questions, because if you can't then nobody can, right?

Eagerly waiting for an answer, yours sincerely,

Sarah McAllister

From: fred.krueger@hell.com

To: sarah@emlstreet.us

STUPID BITCH! WHERE DO YOU HAVE THIS EMAIL-ADRESS FROM? HOW CAN YOU DARE TO WRITE ME, PIGGY? I'LL KILL YOU NEXT TIME YOU SLEEP, AND IT WILL BE A PAINFULL DEATH! ONE-TWO, FREDDY'S COMING FOR YOU…

From: sarah@elmtreet.us

To: fred.krueger@hell.com

Dear Freddy,

I'm a little bit disappointed of the hostile way of your answer. I had just a few polite questions, but the only answer I got was full of vulgar threats. I'm definitely neither a bitch nor a piggy! By the way, I found your email address with Google. Never heard of email directories in WWW? If you didn't want to get emails then you should change your email-alias to something not containing your real name and actual place of living. 

Beside this, I would still appreciate if you answer my questions. Why did you start killing children (I mean when you were alive)? It seems to me as if you have quite a low frustration tolerance. Today they have good anti-aggression-programs for people like you. And another question I'd like to know: where did you get the idea of making this really strange glove-device? 

Sincerely yours,

Sarah

P.S.: Writing in caps-only is impolite, too. Like if you were shouting all the time. Just a small hint, you know? ;-)

From: fred.krueger@hell.com

To: sarah@elmstreet.us

Didn't I tell you not to write me again, damn brat? If we ever meet in your dreams I will teach you a little special lesson what it means to annoy me. You wanna know why I killed all this piggies? Because they were as ditsy and bothering like you, and because their parents deserved it! It was a fucking fun to hear them scream and to torture them to death one after one. If they hadn't caught me by mere chance and burned me later I would still do my work in real world. They thought they'd defeated me, but I am forever! Now I take their gals in the dreams, and it's even more thrilling than before! 

Well, I warn you again not to bother me again, or you will see how low my frustration tolerance is indeed. 

Sweet dreams, piggy,

Freddy K.


	2. More answers

Author's note: Some details of Freddy's life I mention in this fiction come from the biographical novel I'm writing. I published a summary of the first three chapters here on Fanfiction.net, too (R-rated). 

From: sarah@elmstreet.us

To: fred.krueger@hell.com

Dear Freddy,

Thanks for your answer. I know you don't want me to write you again, but please understand how interesting this whole thing is for me. I mean, writing emails to a dead serial killer is strange enough, but getting even answers is more I ever expected. I really don't wanna waste your time, although I wonder if time in hell is that much fun at all. 

I'm not sure if I understood your reason for killing. You said you enjoyed torturing and killing, and that the parents deserved it. What did they do to you for deserving murdering their children? And why then didn't you kill the parents but the children? Seems a bit lily-livered for me, you know? 

I found an old newspaper in the library with a picture of you during the court trial. Boy, you were a really handsome looking guy! It's hard to imagine that a man with such beautiful eyes and such cute blond hair could be a cruel child killer. Friends in School told me that you're burned all over in their dreams. I'm really sorry for that! Do the scars and burns still hurt?

I doubt if there is a chance to meet you in my dreams. I'm not an Elm Street child originally, and what I heard is that you are somewhat limited to children born in this street or the offspring of the parents that burned you, aren't you? It's a little bit confusing for me. Why Elm Street? I don't believe that all your victims lived in only one street, or that the parents who lynched you all came from there. So what's the reason for this limitation?

Well, I have just so many questions, but it is late so I will end this email for today.

Greetings,

Sarah

From: fred.krueger@hell.com

To: Sarah@elmstreet.us

Fuck, you sassy blockhead still tick me off with more stupid questions! You are a real pain in the ass, you know? Damn, I'd better answer your fucking questions just to shut you up, bitch. 

You asked me why I chose the children and not the parents. Well, it just hurt them more! To see them suffer from loosing their sweet piggies was fucking great. The playgrounds are still empty, aren't they? This town will never forget me! I made them pay, pay for thirty years of mock, contempt and betrayal. They called me loser and bastard maniac, they kicked me from High School, they put me to a foster home where my foster father knocked me around every day, and they even locked me in the crappy nuthouse! I really was fed up to the back teeth!

And bitch, never call me a coward again! Killing twenty-four brats before getting caught is not chicken-hearted but clever! Who else fooled police and even FBI for about two years? Only me! Best two years in my whole fucking life, y'know.

Gosh, stop that disgusting tattle about my look. Are you really so daft to believe that I want to be adored by a teenager nag like you? So please save me your dumb mercy! Do my burns still hurt me? I can't believe how fucking curious you are! No, they don't! I don't feel any pain at all, not any longer. 

Elm Street… yeah, that's the only good question you ever asked. You're right, of course I didn't kill only Elm Street kids, I had the whole shitty town to hunt and find my prey. Actually that's nothing to you, but I'll tell you anyway. It belonged to the deal for making me a dream demon, the powers that made me immortal laid down some conditions I had to accept. And damn, this one really sucks! 

Nevertheless, don't be to sure that we will never met! I came to non-Elmstreet-brats before and perhaps I will make it again someday!

And now, for the fucking last time, don't email me again! I'll bash this damned computer in the next hellish lava pit if I receive just one more letter from you!

Greetings from hell,

Freddy K.


	3. Once again

_Author's note_: Thanks for all your positive reviews. Let's see if I can continue this funny thing. BTW, all misspellings, typos or grammar errors are actually unintentionally and due to the fact that I'm a German. I hope you can understand the meaning anyway. :-)

Oh, and please don't use the ICQ# I mention here, I checked it on the ICQ-Page, the number isn't registered yet, otherwise I have to change it because I don't want to bother any unknown guy who accidentally gets this number. 

Now have fun and tell me what you think!

* * *

  


From: sarah@elmstreet.us

To: fred.krueger@hell.com

Hello Freddy,

I know, I know, you threatened me with any kind of hellish pain if I email you just one more time. And I respected your wish for almost a month, but now I have to write you again. Yesterday I attended a funeral of a school friend of mine. Her name was Jasmin, and she was sixteen like me. They say it was a suicide, but other say that she was blotched with bloody cuts and no razor or knife was found in her bedroom. So I wondered if you killed her. Did you? If so and if you continue with this appalling slaughtering you will soon have no more Elm Street children left to kill. What will you do then? Retire? Rest in hell 'til the end of time?

Think about it before you kill your next victim! 

I've just read your last e-mail again. Besides your continual swearing I was really struck to hear that you were physically abused in your youth. How awful! This must have been a totally dreadful experience to you. You mentioned it was your foster father who did it. Did nobody take notice of this? Adults, authorities, anyone? Surely you don't want any pity again but I just hope this mistreatment didn't last too long. 

Well, I don't want to overstrain your well known low patience, so I end my letter now.

Greetings from real world,

Sarah

P.S.: You don't have ICQ or any other instant messenger on your computer installed, do you? Just had the idea of a nice little chat, but considering you annoyance about my emails I don't assume that you would tell me anyway. But at least I asked… 

- 

From: fred.krueger@hell.com

To: Sarah@elmstreet.us

Well, look who's back again nagging me! I should have known that these weeks without any fucking email from you were too good to be true. You and your nosey questions are still a damn pain in the ass.

Oh, how sweet - one of these awful brats puts an end of her miserable life and who do you blame for it? Me! As if I was responsible for every fucking dead teenager in this terrible town. Are you sorry now, piggie, twitting yourself? Don't be ashamed too much, because I just fooled you! Of course I killed her! It was a gory fun to rip out her guts after I chased her down to my boiler room. I really love to play hide-and-seek with these screaming bitches! When I finally caught her she was so pathetic, sobbing and begging for mercy! I mean shit, did I ever have the reputation of being merciful? But nevertheless she pleaded for her wimpy life until I pulled out her tongue and slashed her with my blades. If I had to guess I would say that they buried her in a closed coffin, right? 

Me and retire? No way, little piggie! Elm Street is just the beginning, soon I'll have enough power to expand my realm to whole Springwood and then to the whole world! And then I will kill all the children and you, my nerving little pen-pal, will be one of my favored preys! 

Hey, my youth is nothing to you, bitch. I'm not sorry about what happened then and so should you, too. Whatever this fucking bastard of a foster father did to me just made me stronger. His almost daily bashes taught me the secret of pain - if you just stop feeling it, you can start using it!

Oh yes, I do have an instant messenger. But hell, that's all I need, a damn chat with you annoying babbler. Though, you know what? I'll tell you my ICQ#, it is 666242426. Let's see if you have the guts to talk to me straight! Besides it can't be any worse than yet another fucking e-mail from you. So come on if you dare to!

Wish you bloody nightmares,

Freddy K. 


	4. Killer chat

_Author's note_: Thanks for all your nice reviews; it's really motivating to know that my weird ideas are enjoyed by so many people.

This chapter is especially for Demona Triple H – you wanted it, you got it! *gggg*

So now turn on your IM and listen to a hellish chat that will melt your keyboard! 

Last but not least, the ICQ# of Sarah is my own – feel free to use it in real for contacting me! :-)))

ICQ Log

######## 

Session Start (133075899: 666242426): Fri Feb 20 20:43:33 2004

_133075899/SarahMC_: Hello Freddy. It's Sarah, Sarah McAllister. I emailed you several times before and you gave me your ICQ#, do you remember?

_666242426/Boogeyman_: of course I remember. How could I forget such a curious and ever-nagging piggy like you? So, what do you want?

_SarahMC_: well, how are you?

_Boogeyman_: what's that to you, bitch?

_SarahMC_: gee, calm down. Hell must be … well… like real hell if you're always in such a bad temper. I just wanted to know how you are, you know, that's what normal people ask when they start a friendly conversation.

_Boogeyman_: what gave you the idea that this will be a friendly conversation? 

_SarahMC_: ah, c'mon. if you don't want to talk to me then why did you respond to my emails and accepted this chat session?

_Boogeyman_: sudden fit of dullness? deadly boredom? Blunder? Pick one out.

_SarahMC_: funny, Freddy, really funny. So how was your day? 

_SarahMC_: or your night, I mean. At last you're a kind of night shift worker, right? *g*

_Boogeyman_: I prefer the label Nightmare Stalker or Springwood Slasher

_SarahMC_: oh yeah, great, are we a little bit cocky? 

_Boogeyman_: shut up, fresh bitch. You're starting to tick me off again.

_SarahMC_: all right, sorry.  
_SarahMC_: another question. Do you actual type with this blade thing on your hand? 

_Boogeyman_: what a fucking dumb question. Of course I do. I wear my razor glove practically all the time unless I have to grind the blades. 

_SarahMC_: Well, just thought that it must be rather cumbersome to type with it.

_Boogeyman_: don't rack your brains about my typing, piglet.

_SarahMC_: okay, got it.   
_SarahMC_: I assume there is also a special reason that you always wear this odd Christmas sweater, isn't it? Of course I haven't seen it yet, but they say it's red and green striped, right?

_Boogeyman_: IT'S NO FUCKING CHRISTMAS SWEATER! WHY DOES EVERY DAMN PRICK SAY THAT?

_SarahMC_: HEY! Keep calm! If you say it's not a Christmas sweater then it isn't, no problem. But why then this particular one? You like the colors or what?

_SarahMC_: ???  
_SarahMC_: Freddy? Are you still there? I really didn't want to offend you. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings about your sweater.

_Boogeyman_: Save your breath, nag. I gotta go. Elm Street brats are dreaming. Tonight is open season.

_SarahMC_: okay. Can we continue our chat next time?

_Boogeyman_: we'll see, piggy, we'll just see. 

_SarahMC_: well, cu then.  

Session Close (666242426): Fri Feb 22 21:01:15 2004

--

Session Start (666242426: 133075899): Sat Feb 21 22:58:17 2004

_Boogeyman_: he, gal. go for a chat?

_SarahMC_: hi Freddy. Sure. I'm just surprised, I had the impression that you disliked our last chat.

_Boogeyman_: bygone. I'm just now in the mood for some chatting with my little sassy brat.

_SarahMC_: Could it be that your remarkable good temper is somewhat related to the double murder I've read about in the newspaper this morning?

_Boogeyman_: you betcha! Two at a single blow, what a thrill.

_SarahMC_: Don't be cross with me if I don't share your enjoyment.

_Boogeyman_: BOOOO! Party-pooper!

_SarahMC_: You kill my friends at school, what do you expect me to do? Cheer for you?

_Boogeyman_: Well, that would be just something new for a change. It's hard to do a good job if nobody appreciates your work.

_SarahMC_: Forget it. If you want to be admired for killing children you have to seek for someone else.

_Boogeyman_: what a bummer! I'm a misunderstood genius…

_SarahMC_: You're not a genius, you're a sick pervert.

_Boogeyman_: True. And I love it! *g*

_SarahMC_: You're disgusting, too

_Boogeyman_: Hope so. But at last I'm the bastard son of a hundred maniacs. It's in my genes, I have no choice.

_SarahMC_: You always have a choice. Besides, even if your father was an insane your mother wasn't, and you have her genes, too.

_Boogeyman_: Don't mention that fucking filthy whore. I'm in no way like her, neither from the look nor from the mind.

_SarahMC_: Sounds as you don't like your mother. Why? She was a poor nun who got awfully abused, don't you have at least any pity for her?

_Boogeyman_: Damn, I don't want to talk about that. I hate her. That's it. 

_SarahMC_: Okay. But you're so erratic. It's really hard to talk to you, you know. 

_Boogeyman_: That's how I am. If you don't like it piss off and leave me alone.

_SarahMC_: See, that's what I mean. A little while ago you were quite good humored and now you insult me with every line. Isn't there anything that can cheer you up?

_Boogeyman_: yeah…. killing! Perhaps if you just fall asleep….

_SarahMC_: Guessed you would say that… *sigh* But remember I'm no Elm Street child. Anything else?

_Boogeyman_: Damn shit, forgot that.   
_Boogeyman_: Uh, what cheers me up? Well, torturing… raping…. and killing, killing, killing! 

_SarahMC_: I give up. *big sigh*

_Boogeyman_: Lol. So what, no more curious questions? C'mon, little nag, it's now or never!

_SarahMC_: hm… do you have TV down there? Which kind of movies do you like?

_Boogeyman_: Of course I have TV. It's hell, not Nirvana, blockhead.

_SarahMC_: So?

_Boogeyman_: So I like to watch Wrestling, Action and SciFi movies. Terminator 1&2 are quite good. Robocop is great, too. And last week I saw First Blood. This Rambo guy was really tough.

_SarahMC_: No horror movies? I'd thought you would like them, too.

_Boogeyman_: Watch hysterically screaming girls running away of a maniac serial killer? I don't need a TV to have that! Besides it is barely possible to scare me, the nightmare king in person!

_SarahMC_: Oh, I understand, okay. What's your favorite music then?

_Boogeyman_: I'm not choosey. Mostly Rock'n'Roll, but also some Heavy Metal stuff. Black Sabbath was a really great group. Marilyn Manson also played some very good songs. The only one I don't like is this Alice Cooper. I don't know why but he always reminds me of that fucking foster father I was then forced to live with.

_SarahMC_: Interesting. What about pets? Are there pets allowed in hell? I have a sweet cat named Spike. 

_Boogeyman_: There are pets in hell, but they are somewhat different… not like pets anymore, if you know what I mean. I don't have one of these creepy creatures. Too much work. When I was alive I had several cats and dogs, but they all died.

_SarahMC_: How sad.

_Boogeyman_: Bullshit, dumbass. I killed them one by one. Was the best way to relax after a long hard work day. 

_SarahMC_: oh… should have known that. Once a sadist, always a sadist.   
_SarahMC_: Apropos work – is it true that you worked in that old power plant outside the town?

_Boogeyman_: Yep. Almost five years. Until it was shut down in '72.

_SarahMC_: And there you killed the children, right?

_Boogeyman_: I still do it there! Preferable, but not solely. Depends on the dreamscape. But sooner or later most dreams end in my boiler room.

_SarahMC_: Are you there right now? Or where do you stay when no one is dreaming?

_Boogeyman_: I'm in the 1428 Elm Street dream house. There I spend the most time waiting for some brats to start dreaming. 

_SarahMC_: That explains why this house still is empty in reality. I already wondered why no one wants to live there. The house is haunted.

_Boogeyman_: yeah… sort of.

_SarahMC_: Well, okay, I think I quit for today. Have still some homework to do. It was nice to chat with you… well… mostly. ;-) CU again, I hope. Bye.

_Boogeyman_: Bye.

Session Close (133075899): Sat Feb 21 23:45:15 2004

#####

_Final comment_: I think it's a pity that there is no official fanfiction.net chat or forum. I'd really like to talk to other writers directly and not only by reviewing or writing this small notes to a chapter. How about setting up a chat on our own? It's only a matter of minutes to open a new fanfiction channel on IRC… contact me if you're interested, I'm sure we can manage this. :-)


	5. Some unwanted mails

_Author's note_: Once again thanks for all your positive reviews. This time back to normal e-mails, but I'll probably write another chat session if I get some fresh ideas (and yes, I also have an AIM name, which is amandakrueger74).

#############################

From: sarah@elmstreet.us

To: fred.krueger@hell.com

Hello Freddy,

I have to say that I'm quite confused. Last night I dreamed of you. I saw you, your striped sweater, your razor glove weapon, the boiler room, everything. How is this possible? I'm not an original Elm Street child, we both know that. And another, even more important question: WHY DID YOU TRY TO KILL ME, YOU CRAPPY BASTARD??? I'll be damned! Just in case you don't know what I'm talking about – I was the blonde girl with the pink pajama and the fluffy bunny-shoes running away from you in that doggoned power plant! How could you – after all the e-mails and chat we had? I'm not only disappointed about your villainous attempt to kill me but really pissed off. I even tried to tell you who I am but you did not listen to me. Is this the way you treat your friends?

I would appreciate if you don't repeat to try to kill me next night!

So, this had to be said! I hope you're not mad at me for my verbal fury. I just don't like to be hunted through steamy iron catwalks like easy prey. By the way, I'd never expected this power plant to be so gigantic. Is it so huge in reality or was this a kind of dream trick? 

I'll see you (unfortunately as I have to say…).

Greetings,

SarahMC

. 

From: fred.krueger@hell.com

To: Sarah@elmstreet.us

Hi-ho piggy! So that poor screaming picture of misery running away in dreadful fear was you! Well, let's say… SURPRISE AND WELCOME TO MY NIGHTMARE! And by the way, you mocked me because of my sweater and then you come along in my dream realm with these ridiculous bunny-shoes? Who's got a weird taste of clothing, uh? 

Yeah, you weren't an original Elm Street child, that's right, but it seems as if you have become one. Didn't I mention this possibility? I'm so awfully sorry, I really should have warned you that this could happen if you live long enough in my street. But hey, don't be sad, you can now officially designate yourself an Elm Street child! Congratulation, my sweet nag! 

Well, I'd say sorry for trying to kill you, but in fact I'm not sorry at all. Chasing you was indeed damn amusing, and it was mere luck that you survived. You would appreciate if I don't kill you? Oh, and I would appreciate if you don't run away next time and let me rip your guts out of you! Do you really think I would spare you because of a couple of e-mails and two short chat sessions? Don't be that stupid, little brat! Tell me just one reason why I should do that!

CU (not unfortunately at all … in my point of view)

Sweet Dreams,

Freddy K.

P.S.: The power plant of your dream was the original size, at least this time. But maybe I'll show you some real cute dream tricks I can do next time … *g* 

---

From: peter_norringer@aol.us

To: fred.krueger@hell.com

Hey Motherfucker! So you're really that damn son of a hundred maniacs, he? You killed my brother, asshole! And if I ever meet you I'll kick the fucking shit out of you! Hear my warning, prick, you just made an enemy here!

Burn in hell, fucker!

PETE

. 

From: fred.krueger@hell.com

To: peter_norringer@aol.us

Who the fuck are you, moron? I don't give a shit for your piddling threats! You think you can beat me, son of a bitch, then do a little dream trip and we'll see who's gonna kick the shit out of whom! I'll rip your damn ass open with my razor glove! Soon you will know how it feels to have four 6" long steel blades in your body which cut through your flesh like butter and pull out your heart without any effort. And then, you impertinent boy, you'll burn with me in hell forever!

One, two, Freddy's coming for you!

---

From: hazelnut@gmx.com

To: fred.krueger@hell.com

Hello dear Freddy. My name's Hillary. I'm nine years old and I have an elder sister, Colleen. She is fifteen and quite clever. But she doesn't know that I'm using her computer to write to you, so please don't tell her. Why I write you is because Colleen told me that you hurt her when she is sleeping. I think that is really nasty of you, you know? Please leave her alone because I love her and I need her. Thanks and bye, Hillary.

.

From: fred.krueger@hell.com

To: hazelnut@gmx.com

Hello my sweet princess. You're a really brave little girl by writing me an e-mail all of your own. So you want me not to harm your cute sister Colleen anymore? I'd really like to do you this favor, but there is only one teeny-weeny problem: I'M A DAMN SERIAL KILLER AND YOUR FUCKING SISTER IS ALL BUT DEAD! But don't be afraid, honey, as soon as I'm done with her I'll take care of you. Maybe I'll have some special pleasure with you before I'll kill you, because you were such a plucky darling. 

Sleep well, Hillary, 

Your uncle Freddy 

--- 

From: gothicgirl@yahoo.com

To: fred.krueger@hell.com

He dude. You're so cool. All this bloody gore you're doing kicks ass! You aren't into S/M, are you? It'll be so groovy if we could join a little bondage game or whatever turns you on. Have a nice killing. Krueger rulez! Bye, GothicGirl.

.

From: fred.krueger@hell.com

To: gothicgirl@yahoo.com

Damn, that was the crappiest piece of shit I've ever read. You think you're really cool with all that dumb talk about gore and sex!? NO! You're just another fucking bitch who pretends to be a big bad girl, nothing more. I've hunted many of your kind before, and they all ended up as wimpy sobbing sluts screaming in deadly fear. And so will you, too, if we ever meet. Now fuck off, coozie, and never dare to write me again. 

Freddy K.

---

From: fred.krueger@hell.com

To: Sarah@elmstreet.us

You bothersome chatterbox! There isn't something you have to tell me, is there? Something like 'I published your e-mail address on the damn black board in school'? Something like 'I asked all my crappy friends to pester you with fucking dumb mails?' Bloody hell, I got mails from three more cheeky brats! How do you explain that, bunny-bitch? 

I'd have asked you personally, but I guess your doing the old I-don't-sleep-no-more thing, 'cause you weren't dreaming since our last delightful encounter. Too scared to face up to the boogeyman? You were shooting your mouth off as long as you thought you're safe from me, but now you're nothing but a chicken-hearted wimp! No more curious questions, no more sassy comments, no more bothering suggestions? What a damn pity, I was just getting used to it!

So come on, you rinky-dink quitter, and show me that you have the guts to confront your nightmares!

Bye-bye, Freddy

.

From: sarah@elmstreet.us

To: fred.krueger@hell.com

Sorry, Freddy, I really didn't want to put about your email address. Valerie, my girlfriend, visited me three days ago. We played together on my computer, and there she accidentally saw the emails I sent you before. But believe me, I had no idea that she would tell her friends. When I found out that she spread it about straight away it was already too late. So I can understand that you're completely pissed off now and I hope you haven't got any further mails.

It's right, I turned down sleeping for the last days. But gee, this is no reason for swearing at me like this! I told you already that I am **not** a coward, bitch, wimp or whatever names you else have in your twisted mind! I simply had to think about several things without having to fear dying in my dreams. If you had had the decency to postpone your attempts of killing me for at least a few nights I wouldn't have been forced to take these drastically steps. Thus stop complaining and also save me your sarcastic insults! 

You wanted a reason for not killing me – how about this one: If I die my computer will send copies of all your emails together with a prepared attachment to the local police, FBI, and, even more important, to all of my friends. Of course, I know that this won't harm you in your dream world in any way. But don't rejoice too soon! Because in the attached mail I will ask that they all shall distribute these mails to other people and so on, and that they all shall write to you 'cause you're so crazy about new emails! 

Can you imagine how it would be to get not only three emails but three hundred? Or three thousand? It'll be like one of this chain letters, but this one would work, I give you my word on it! 

It is even possible that somebody has the idea of hacking your computer and deleting all your data or placing some tiny dirty viruses or backdoor trojans in your system! Certainly you could change your email address or clean your hard disc with the appropriate tools, or you can even throw your computer away as you planned before. But are a few minutes of thrill by killing me worth such a huge effort? All this hours of work and this trouble just because of one weak girl? If I were you I would think twice about it!

I think I will sleep this night again. I'll see if you're a cunning blade or just a brainless killer machine (like this other guy I heard of…  this Jason Voorhees)!

Bye,

Sarah


	6. Face to face

_Author's comment_: WOW, already 37 reviews… *rubbing-eyes-in-astonishment*. Looks like some people really like my fanfic. *g* Well, I have long thought about this next chapter, what to write and how to go on with it. And I came to the conclusion to bring the story to life, i.e. not writing just e-mails without anything all around but showing what happens else. So here we go – have fun and tell me, what you think… :-))))))) 

P.S.: Please excuse the delay in updating, I had a major writing blockade and had to rewrite half of this chapter, but finally I'm finished and here we go!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**_Springwood, Elm Street_**

"Sarah, Darling, it's late! Go to bed eventually, okay?"

The voice of Sarah's mother trailed off through the house. Sarah, sitting in front of her computer, took a quick look towards the closed door of her room.

"Okay, Mum, I'm almost ready." she shouted back. Then, with a deep sigh, she glanced back at the bright computer screen. The small clock in the lower right corner showed 00:32 a.m. And still no mail from Freddy. Shit. She'd hoped to get an answer before she had to sleep this night. Why did he not write? Normally he answered her e-mails almost in an instant. Hell had to be rather boring, she guessed, if he spent so much time on his computer. 

_You know what this means,_ whispered a tiny voice in her head, _you pissed him off completely and he is just waiting for you to fall asleep, so that he can kill you_. _Or even better, he is busy with killing other kids and you will be the next 'cause of your last impertinent e-mail_. Gee, what the hell came over her to threaten Freddy Krueger, child murderer and nightmare stalker, with an e-mail chain letter? That had been the silliest idea on earth. He would know that it was nothing but an empty threat, just a desperate attempt to save her life. Although she was rather skilled with computer stuff things like that were surpassing her competence. Notwithstanding of all his rude swearing she had to admit that he was right at one point – it had been different to e-mail him before she had had the first real nightmare, more like some kind of weird game. But now the game was over. And she had to pay the price for her curiosity and cheekiness. 

She checked her e-mail account for the last time, but to no avail. Sighing again she shut down the computer and stood up. She was already dressed for night. The short, blue pajama she was wearing was one of her favorites. She crawled under the blanket of her bed and yawned. To say that she was tired was a vast understatement. After three days without any sleep she was dead tired. _And probably you'll be soon not dead tired but just dead! _whispered the voice again. 

"C'mon, shut up. This is nonsense." she spoke loud to herself, but her voice sounded quite tremulous and made her shiver. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, but despite her tiredness she felt as if she had never been more awake than now. She could hear her parents talking low from within their bedroom on the end of the floor. A cat meowed outside, a car with a humming motor drove past, and the fresh wind caused some long branches of the big elm standing right in front of her room to knock slightly against her closed window. All in all it was a peaceful night. If something like that was possible at all in this cursed town, and especially in this haunted street.

Suddenly Sarah noticed a flickering light in her room and opened her eyes. The computer monitor had turned on, showing nothing but a bright white screen. _Strange_, she thought, _I must have forgotten to turn it off_. But if the computer was shut down how was this white screen possible without any signal? Slowly she pushed her blanket away and slipped into a pair of sneakers which lay by her bed – after her last nightmare and Freddy's following email where he scoffed at her fluffy bunny-shoes she had replaced them by these sneakers, which where at least more convenient if she had to run once again through the iron maze of the power plant. Hesitantly she sat down on the chair in front of the computer desk. She turned the monitor on and off several times, but the white screen still persisted. Then, out of the blue, red letters appeared on the screen, as if someone was just typing them.

"You've got mail. Click here to open!" she read aloud. There was a small button under the message. Although she had more than a bad feeling about this she moved the cursor with the mouse to the button and clicked on it. Almost at the same moment the whole screen was splattered with red bloody sprinkles from inside. There were also some bigger grey clots like… _like pieces of brain, that's what it is_, continued her inner voice, but this time it sounded rather squeaky and anxious. She was dreaming! Although she had expected it somehow she was also crestfallen. A tiny part of her had still hoped that the last nightmare was just a one-time incident, a cosmic mistake or an accidental mix-up. It just couldn't be that she had become an Elm Street child; it was so loose and so… so unhealthy! But the blood that was still dropping down the inside of the screen revealed without any doubt that this special nightmare had reoccurred. 

With a mixed expression of fear and fascination she raised her hand and touched the surface of the screen carefully. It was wet. She pulled her hand back and gazed at the bloody tips of her fingers. All of a sudden a bubbling sound came from the screen. More and more blood splattered against the panel until every inch was covered, and then it started to spill out from the edges. It poured on the keyboard and the desk, forming a growing puddle of blood. Sarah let out a horrified shriek and jumped away from the desk before the blood reached the edge of the table. A screeching sound of metal against metal made her cover her ears while she stumbled backwards. _He is near!_ Without thinking she leaped to the door and ran outside. But instead of reaching the stairs she found herself on a steamy iron catwalk. She wasn't in her house anymore, but in the old power plant! Almost petrified with horror she stopped and looked back, however the door to her bedroom had vanished. She was trapped.

"Damn!" she cursed and tried to calm down then by taking several deep breaths. _Don't act like a stupid wimp, that's just what he wants you to be!_ Steam filled the air and water dripped from ominous pipes and rusty tubes. Everything was bathed in a subdued flickering red light, making it hard to see where the path was leading. Slowly and attentively she walked over the catwalk, but only a few steps later she reached a dead end. Annoyed and disappointed she suppressed another curse and turned around to go back the same way, when suddenly she ran into someone standing right behind her. It was Freddy.

"Watch your step, bunny-bitch!" he growled and grabbed her on her arms. The sharp blades of his razor glove cut into her left arm, causing four painful thin slash marks. 

"Oh my god, Freddy!" Sarah shouted and stared in horror into the dreadful burned face that was only inches away. She could even feel the heat radiating from his body as if he was still burning. Freddy, dressed in his usual outfit, sneered at her and released her abruptly.  

"God is not sleeping, so it's just you and me here!" He kept his piecing green eyes on her while circling around her. "So here we have the sassy nag who really dared to threat me with what – fucking spam e-mails! Very inventive, but also futile! Do you really believe such a crappy idea would prevent me from killing you?"

He stopped and grabbed her again, his blood-stained knifes clasping her pale cheek. Sarah felt the panic urge to scream and to tear away from him, but she overcame the impulse and stood still.

"It… it was worth a try! And not the worst idea, after all it worked not too bad until now." she said finally, hoping that her voice sounded not as tremulous as she was feeling right now. Freddy gave her a strange glance that gave her the creeps. Then, when she already thought he would kill her right now, he let her loose a bit and chuckled raspy.

"Still the same cheeky brat!"

Sarah regarded his laughter as a good sign. Perhaps she would somehow survive this nightmare. Although Freddy's blades were still dangerously near upon her face she relaxed a bit and even tried to smile.

"Well, it's a bad habit!"

However, all her hope was destroyed at once when he grabbed her throat with his free left hand, pressing so hard that she could barely gasp for breath.

"It's a deadly habit if you ever mention again that drowned moron Jason, you stupid bitch!" hissed Freddy and ran his gloves hand deceptively soft over her cheek, drawing a thin blood line with the blade of his index finger. Sarah's face turned to purple while she made desperate efforts to loose his grip. She knew that Freddy was really enjoying her pain and suffering, she could see it in his eyes which reflected his sadistic desire. Helpless she tried to say something, but her voice was hardly more than a hoarse whisper:

"Got it! Sorry! Won't happen again! Please…."

She was almost blacking out, when Freddy released her eventually and pushed her backwards with a scornful snarl. The impact of his thrust threw her hard to the ground, where she stayed down first and coughed loud until her face had regained its normal color. Freddy on his part ignored her and simply walked away. Sarah had no clue why he had spared her after all, surely not due to her pathetic excuse, but she was of course relieved to be still alive and forbore from asking him.

"Freddy, wait! Where are you going to?" she called instead before he got out of sight and jumped on her feet. She felt still a little bit dizzy as she followed him deeper into the labyrinth of the power plant. _What the hell are you doing_, got her inner voice again in touch with her, _why don't you just sit down twiddling your thumbs and wait until you wake up? But no, you of course have to follow a maniac serial killer who almost_ _strangled you just a few minutes ago_! Freddy had also noticed that she was following him. He spun around with his razor glove upraised, missing her only by hair's breadth. 

"What the fuck you think you're doing? You're supposed to wake up screaming, not to run after me like a dumb dog!"

"If I knew how I certainly would, believe me! But after three sleepless days I guess I have a huge sleep shortfall. So I doubt that I will wake up soon, and until then I will definitely not sit in some dark corner of this awful place and wait all along."

She crossed her arms before her chest in a gesture of affirmation. Freddy rolled his eyes and muttered in a low voice: "Hell, that fucking brat drives me up the wall!" Sarah, who heard him full well, kept back any comment that might upset him again. As she did not show any sign of waking up Freddy scowled at her, pointing with on of his blades into her direction:

"Don't push your luck too far, damn nag! You're still an Elm Street child and sooner or later I'll kill you anyway!"

"What are you waiting for?" slipped from Sarah before she even realized what she had said. Startled she covered her mouth with one hand and made two steps backwards while peering at Freddy's reaction. _Congratulation, your cheeky tongue just bought you a ticket to hell! Perhaps it would be easier if you pre-empt him and just spike yourself on his talons, 'cause his way will surely be more painful and long-lasting._

"I don't get it! She doesn't shut her trap!" mumbled Freddy in disbelief, then he closed in on her and roared indignant: "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you weary of life or what?"

Furiously he raised his razor glove, ready to slash her with one frantic stroke. Sarah couldn't help but close her eyes as she didn't want so see the deadly blades that would doubtless kill her now – two times she'd escaped certain death but this time she would die definitely. However, the deadly strike did not happen, and after a few seconds which seemed to be almost endless she blinked cautiously. The blood stained blades had stopped less than one inch from her face. She could see the details of the copper knuckles, on which the knifes were attached to, yes she could even see Freddy's palm and fingers through the holey leather glove. But of course she was not in the mood of admiring the remarkable construction of this dreadful weapon.

Freddy, however, slowly lowered his glove and grinned malicious.

"Nay, damn too easy! You wanna stay with me, piggie? You can have it!"

Without any warning he grabbed her by her shoulders and threw her around brutally. Stumbling backwards Sarah hit the low banister and lost her grip. With a frightened scream she desperately tried to catch the iron railing, but her hands were only clutching at air. She fell over the banister, plunging into the misty depths while Freddy, chuckling viciously, bent forward and waved her goodbye with his razor gloved hand.  


	7. The deal

**_Author's note: _**The email mentioned in this chapter is part of a review I got for this story. I hope the owner does not object that I used it, otherwise I would remove it and rewrite the chapter. Please don't abuse the email addresses!  
But now, let the story continue…..

#######################

**_Dream world_**

Sarah was falling. Her frightened scream still echoed through the steamy air as metal pipes, catwalks, ducts and chutes passed by in an ever faster growing speed. The free fall down through the iron maze of the power plant seemed almost endless, giving her enough time to envision her dreadful dead when she would finally hit the ground and get painfully smashed by the enormous impact. After all her fears of being killed by Freddy's bloodstained razor sharp blades it seemed almost dull that she would now plunge to her death. 

But the feared impact did not happen, and totally perplexed she realized that the sight of the power plant had vanished and had been replaced by a star spangled dark heaven. A rough wind soughed through the cold air while she was still falling and falling. And then, all at once, she crashed through a wooden roof and plumped hard into a rotten sofa which luckily absorbed most of the shock of her abrupt landing. Scales of wood and dust hurtled around in a thunderous cloud, making Sarah cough several times. Her bones were aching badly, but at least she was still alive!

A dark chuckle behind her made her spin around. Freddy, the Nightmare Stalker, was sitting on an old office chair, his worker boots resting on a messy desk in front of him. A flickering computer screen was standing alongside with piles of junk on the desk, the computer itself being placed under the table.

"Well, well. You're late. What slowed you down, bitch?" he sneered. Puzzled Sarah didn't answer but took a look-around first. She was in a living room, or what must have been a living room ages ago. A dirty carpet was lying on the floor, its pattern barely visible under layers of dust, mud and dark blotches. The wall papers were paled and disengaging from many parts of the wall, other areas seemed to be shred in pieces or were covered with dark spots Sarah didn't want to study any further at all. The rotten sofa she was lying on belonged to an also moldy armchair standing aside in the opposite corner of the room in front of a television set with a broken glass. Obviously the sofa had been placed knowingly in the middle of the room, just where she had fallen through the roof. It took Sarah not very long to recognize where she was – it was the old 1428 Elm Street house, Freddy's "home".

"You sick bastard, it was just a trick! You scared me to hell!" she shouted furiously as she realized that her frightful fall had only been some kind of invidious dream world illusion. But Freddy was just amused by her outrage. He snickered and waved again to her with his razor glove.

"Yeah… I can taste your fear, it's fucking sweet and delicious! Besides, you wanted me to do some dream tricks in one of your damn emails, don't you? So don't complain about it now!"

"You could have had at least the decency to forewarn me!" replied Sarah visibly annoyed. She stood up and vainly tried to tap the dirt out of her clothes. Freddy on his side seemed more than satisfied and chuckled again: "And spoiling the whole fun? No fucking way, bitch!"

"Yeah, very funny. Now what next!?"

Freddy took his feet from the desk and sat up straight. He beckoned her with a fast, clicking movement of his blades and pointed on the computer screen then. Unsure what to expect Sarah came closer reluctantly. From close up the desk seemed even more jammed with trash. Old moldy pieces of pizza, dented empty cans of beer, tools and other junk were mixed up in an utter confusion. Something Sarah finally identified as a blood crusted hearing device laid on top of a huge pile of papers. A broken doll, wearing nothing but a red hair ribbon and with only one plastic eye left sat next to the dusty computer screen. And in the midst of all this weird and squirmy mess was the keyboard located, its keys and edges scratched as if _someone_ had treated it unrestrained with sharp knifes instead of using his fingers.      

"See what you have done to me, sassy nag!" said Freddy in a more than sourly tone. Again he pointed on the screen, and Sarah stepped near him to look what he meant. An email program labeled 'Outlook Express Hell Version' was running, showing more than twenty new messages in the inbox. Apparently Freddy's email address had still spread around, as Sarah could see emails coming not only from Springwood but from other cities and even outside US. 

"Oh!" was all that crossed her mind about this, but Freddy scowled at her and furiously stroke the keyboard with one of his blades. The first email message opened up:

_From: SamAlucard13@aol.com_

_To: fred.krueger@hell.com_

_Hi. The name is Sam Alucard. I'm a fellow psychopath and fluently run about in my dreams killing people I don't really like.  However, there is one person yet I've not been able to get. He's a guy named Presby and he's a total fucking dickweed to me...one of those guys who just doesn't know when to leave a girl alone you know? So I was thinkin, since you are after all a professional in the business of killing, would you like to snuff Presby for me and do a girl a favor for once? The reward will be great if you just bring me his head on a platter...or in your hand. Either way, it's all good. Laterness and unpleasant dreams to ya._

_~The Almighty Sam Alucard~_

While Sarah was reading silent Freddy started to curse almost immediately, getting more and more enraged until he finally burst out:

"Damn fuck! This bloody crap is your entire fault! Look at this piece of shit! Who is this fucking Sam? And why in hell does she think she could hire me like a contract killer?? I don't kill kids on request, I kill whoever I want to kill and I kill just for myself and not for any damn fucking brat! That's all a big fuck-up, and it totally sucks!"

He banged his left fist so hard on the table that the pile of papers overturned and fluttered down to the ground, then he swept half of the junk from the desk with a frantic snarl. Cautiously Sarah stepped a little back, trying to get out of reach of his razor glove as she did not want to get hurt during his sudden rage attack, be it accidentally or even on purpose. But as quick as his hot-tempered outburst had come, as fast did it go by. Taking a deep breath he actually regained his restraint and, as if nothing had happened at all, began to type a short reply. Sarah wasn't sure whether she could really trust Freddy's newfound self-control. The way he grimly hit the already maltreated keyboard with his blades and the content of his reply, which contained mostly f-words and other kind of vulgar insults, were not really inspiring confidence. While Freddy was still typing she glanced over the subject lines of the other still unread emails, noticing not only "fan mails" but many spam mails about the typical useless stuff like penis-enlargement, debt offers and fake virus warnings with attachments probably infected by the virus they were warning for. 

"You've got a lot of spam emails, haven't you? You can't blame me for that, too!" she said. Meanwhile Freddy had finished his first reply and started to manually delete all the spam mails. He gave her a short, black look and grumbled:

"I can, bitch! Before I wrote to you I had almost none of this bullshit, and now I'm flooded with it!"

"Well, why don't you use a spam filter instead of deleting all the spam by hand? It would be a lot of easier, and more secure, too."

"A what?" replied Freddy, obviously not knowing what she was talking about. But before Sarah could explain it a beeping sound came from the computer and a pop-up window appeared on the screen, then another and another and so on until the whole screen was filled with tiny boxes. 

"What the hell…" shouted Freddy furiously again and stroke the keyboard wildly in a desperate attempt to close the cascade of pop-ups. Sarah tried to read some of the boxes, which were mostly error messages and warnings about a computer shutdown in a few minutes, when suddenly a blue screen appeared and the computer got shut down. 

"Damn, not again! This fucking computer drives me crazy!"

He lashed for the keyboard with his razor glove once again, before he jumped up and kicked his chair away. 

"Well, it looks like you have a computer virus on your hard disk, perhaps even more than one." said Sarah calmly, ignoring his anew violent outburst, "I assume you don't have any anti-virus software installed, or a firewall, do you?"

"A firewall? A _fire_wall?? Do you want to take me for a sucker?" 

Without any warning he lunged at her, the razor blades spread apart, and only Sarah's quick reaction saved her life as she dodged away, thereby getting only cut on the left upper arm.

"Don't!! I don't twit you! It's a computer program, a firewall is an internet security software!" she yelled and raised her hands in fear of another strike. Freddy, though, stopped his movements and lowered his gloved hand.

"Why didn't you tell before?" he snapped. Relieved to be – once again – still alive Sarah stared at him in blank astonishment, unsure whether to be angry or not about his rapid change of temper. The four cuts on her arm began to twinge painfully, blood trickling through the slit cotton of her pajama. 

"Ever heard of thinking before acting?" she mumbled and examined the wounds carefully. Freddy however didn't care about her injuries and asked:

"So what's this damn fire-thingy and virus stuff about?"

With a sigh Sarah looked up and said: "An anti-virus software scans your computer for dangerous viruses and trojans which try to harm your system, like what happened to your computer before, and a desktop firewall checks your internet connection and defends you against hacker attempts."

Freddy seemed quite confused, taking off his fedora and scratching his bald, scarred head with one hand.

"I see. And you're saying my computer is infected by some fucking viruses and that's the cause for all the bloody failures?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure." Sarah replied, and then, with a sudden idea in her mind, she added: "I could help you clean your computer, removing all malicious things and fixing the system, but…"

"But what, nosey?"

"Well, then you have to keep me alive for a while!" she said with a somewhat sly grin. Freddy gazed at her agape, before he smirked and pointed with one of his blades in her direction.

"Very clever, sassy brat!"

He tapped with the index blade against his lips several times while he considered her offer. The longer he stayed silent, just giving her a cutting glance, the uneasier she felt. Suddenly she had the awful idea that he would refuse to let her live, preferring to kill her right now like the impatient child killer he was. Then, finally, Freddy nodded.

"Agree. You're safe until you're done with my fucking computer. But then…" 

He made a clear gesture with his razor glove along his throat. Sarah had already expected to get only a temporary ceasefire, but it was better than nothing.

"But until then we have a deal, right?" she asked again just to be sure that there was no misunderstanding. 

"I give you my hand on it!" replied Freddy and put forth his gloved hand. Sarah knew she had to seal their deal with a handshake. Carefully she took his hand, the sharp razor knifes enclosing her hand and cutting into her skin as Freddy tightened his grip with a cruel smile. Sarah winced under his painful pressure, when suddenly she began to fade away. She was awakening! 

"See you next night!" she called, hoping that he could still hear her, before she awoke in her bedroom eventually. The nightmare was over, at least for this night.


	8. Preparing for the night

**_Author's note_**: I want do dedicate this chapter to Paula (KrazyKatKrueger), my most loyal reader and reviewer and also one of my best Irish friends (okay, also my only Irish friend, but ya know what I mean…) ;-))). I also want to say Thanks and Hello to all my other readers and reviewers. I really love it to be part of this wonderful ff.net community! But now enough of my blablah, let the story continue…!

**Springwood**** High School******

Lost in thoughts Sarah was sitting in the crowded cafeteria. It was school lunch break, and the large hall was filled with hordes of hungry students. Chattering and laughing they were sitting grouped at the tables, eating the menu of the day, which was mashed potatoes with peas and bacon bits. Though, Sarah's plate stood before her on the desk, still untouched. She wasn't hungry. Holding her head in one hand she stared into space, thinking about the last night. And the last nightmare. 

God, did she really offered a maniac dream killer to fix his computer? In her dream it seemed to be an almost brilliant idea, her computer knowledge in return for a period of grace, but now, by daylight, it sounded to her rather silly and ludicrous. What if she wasn't able to clean Freddy's computer? What if his operating system and his programs weren't compatible to the internet security tools she used on her own system? And even if her tools worked, what if the viruses in the dream world were so different from the ones in reality that her tools couldn't repair it? If she failed Freddy would most likely kill her unhesitatingly – something which he could do anyway the next time they met. At least he had already done more abominable things than just breaking a simple promise. Even when it was sealed by a bloody handshake that left four painful cuts in her hand.

"Hey, Sarah! What's up?"

A female voice interrupted her musing. It came from a tall, sportive girl with long blonde hair and remarkable green eyes. She wore the traditional cheerleader outfit, a red, short pleated skirt and a yellow t-shirt with a lion printed on it, the emblem of the Springwood High football team. She held a plate with her meal on it in her hands, placing it now next to Sarah's ones while grabbing a free chair to sit down.

"Oh, hi Valerie. I… I was just thinking." said Sarah and tried to smile, but it came out only a as poor grimace. Valerie gave her a wry look from the side.

"Just thinking? You've been like a zombie all day. So tell me, what troubles you so much that you even don't eat anymore?"

Sarah looked up for a moment, trying to find the right words which could explain the whole mess she was in. But everything that came to her mind sounded so dumb and odd. And unbelievable. If someone else had told her what she had undergone in her dream, and what she had promised to do, she would have taken that person for nuts. So how could she expect that Valerie would believe or even understand it? Sighing she finally shook her head.

"It's… it's complicated. You wouldn't believe me anyway!"

"Ah, c'mon, that's not fair! I'm your best friend, you should trust me more than that! I mean, I even told you that I have a crush on Marc from the football team, something I would absolutely deny if anybody else asks me about him."

Valerie looked so indignant, her arms crossed before her chest and her green eyes flashing in hot temper, that Sarah had to give in eventually. 

"Okay, I'll tell you." she said, "But you have to promise me that you won't laugh at me or take me for nuts!"

"Sure, I promise. Now tell!"

Sarah sighed once more, searching again for a way to begin with her story before she finally said:

"Well, do you remember the e-mails I got on my computer? The ones you read when you visited me before and told your friends about until I said not to spread it about anymore?"

Valerie nodded: "Yeah, of course. I already apologized for that, I… I didn't know that they were private and confidential. And I didn't tell anyone else since. But… oh no… don't tell me that you have a thing with this psycho guy pretending to be you-know-who, that would be awful!"

"What? No, it's not that!", Sarah rubbed her forehead in an attempt to reduce the headache that was constantly growing inside her head, "This psycho guy as you call him is not just pretending to be you-know-who. He **_is_** it, he is really Freddy Krueger!"

Her distressed voice increased in loudness while she spoke, but when she mentioned Freddy's name she lowered it again as she didn't want to attract too much attention from the other students around her. She didn't continue with her explanation but waited for a reaction of Valerie first. Valerie on her part had a mixed expression of disbelief and horror on her face. With her eyes wide opened and her mouth dropped she looked quite distraught, but her dismay was understandable in view of the fact that two of her friends, Caroline and Paula, had been murdered in their sleep only a few months ago. So even if she was no Elm Street child she knew about Freddy, and, what was more important, believed in the stories about him killing in dreams.

"Oh my god!" she finally said and cleared her throat, "You are kidding, aren't you? I'd never thought that these mails could be real. Are you really sure it's not a fake?"

"Yeah. I've got these damned emails straight out of hell, I'm dead man sure there!" replied Sarah and lifted her blue t-shirt, thereby exposing the four cuts on her upper arm. She had bandaged it with some gauze, but since she had to do it with one hand it was kind of clumsy applied and already starting to bleed through. Pointing to her bandage she added:

"See, unfortunately I already met the sender of the messages in my nightmares!"

"Oh my god!" shouted Valerie again and covered her mouth with one hand as she saw the blood trails of the unique slash marks almost every teenager in Springwood would have recognized at once. Sarah dropped the sleeve of her shirt again.

"Yeah. I know. But that's not everything yet by far."

"Not everything? You know what happened to Paula and Caroline, nobody survives these nightmares! You got already hurt. You have to do something, tell your parents, tell the police, someone!" 

Valerie was really frightened, and her worry touched Sarah very much. She hugged her shivering friend briefly and said with a shake of her head:

"Neither my parents nor the police can help me now, you know that! They wouldn't believe me, and even if, they couldn't protect me in my sleep. No, I have to deal with this on my own. And I can reassure you, at least in the near future I won't be killed!" 

"But… how… what makes you so sure about that?"

"Well, I made a deal with him. My life in return for a little computer repair service."

Valerie's blank look let her laugh briefly, the first time she was laughing today at all. But it felt really good and helped her relaxing a little bit more. More confidently than she herself had been before she explained:

"Let's just say even computer in hell can get viruses and other malicious stuff, so I promised to fix the system if he promises to spare my life."

She didn't mention her fears about the possible incompatibilities she had had before, and she also didn't mention that this arrangement was only temporary, because she didn't want to worry Valerie again.

"But are you sure you can trust him? He is a maniac killer, he could kill you anyway!" Valerie asked skeptical, having the same doubts as Sarah before.

"Well, we sealed the deal with a handshake! That will suffice." replied Sarah and showed Valerie her right hand with the cuts between the fingers, but then she had her shoulders hung and added frankly: "At least I hope so." 

The ring of the school bell announced the end of the break. While Sarah picked up her schoolbag and the still untouched meal on her plate she said: "Don't worry, Val. You know I'm a computer nerd. I'll make it."

She waited for Valerie to pick up her plate, too, then they went to the exit and put down their plates on a huge dishes shelf. Hugging Sarah again Valerie said good-bye: "Be careful, okay? I don't want to loose another best friend of mine!" 

"I will, Val, for sure!" promised Sarah, before she eventually took her leave and headed to her next lesson.

**  
Sarah's home, Elm Street**

The red digits of the alarm clock showed 11:42 p.m. Sarah was sitting on her bed and suppressed a yawn. The afternoon had gone by so fast, after doing her school homework and helping her mother dishing the dinner she had hardly found the time to prepare herself for the coming night – respectively the coming dream. Around her on the bed lied several books about internet security and two computer CD's, which contained the most important tools to fix infected systems. While reading some printouts of an internet research she had done earlier about the latest viruses and trojans of the World Wide Web Sarah yawned again. It was time to sleep.

She put the books and papers aside, keeping only the disks in her hands as she would need them later. But when she just wanted to crawl under her blanket she suddenly froze in the movement. What if she wasn't able to bring the disks into her dream? She had simply assumed that it was possible, but in fact she had not the faintest idea if it really would go well. If not, she would be completely left stranded, because without her tools she had no chance to repair the disaster of a computer Freddy was calling his own. 

Unfortunately all she could do was hoping and trying it, and perhaps praying if it went awry. With a last sigh she slipped under the blanket and turned out the bedside lamp. With the disks in her hand she finally fell asleep, and only a short time later her eyes began to move rapidly.

The dream had started…


	9. Hard work

**_Author's note: _**Attention! This chapter contains explicit descriptions of gore and mutilation! Not suitable for the sensitive readers among us (if there are any at all) ;-)

_###################################################_**_  
_**

**_ Dream world_**

"One, two – Freddy's coming for you! Three, four – better lock your door! Five, six – grab your crucifix! Nine, ten – never sleep again!"

The sound of the old nursery rhyme trailed through the air. Sarah, dressed in a bleached jeans and a cushy black and pink striped t-shirt, stood at a crossroad to Elm Street, but even from this distance she could hear the tune. She had heard of that song – Freddy's song – before, but it was the first time she really heard it sung by someone. As if the parents in Springwood feared that singing this song could already conjure up Freddy from hell.

To the right of her stood the road sign, but the normally proper sign was badly damaged. The post was battered and the writing itself was not printed in the usual way but looked like it was scratched in the metal with crimson letters. Sarah had a long view on the road sign, then she sighed and began to walk down the long road. In her hand she held two computer discs; much to her relief she had been able to take them with her in her dream, which hopefully would somewhat increase her chances of survival. The longer she walked down the street the clearer she heard the haunting song, and finally she could see the singers: two little girls and a small boy, all about the age of ten, played at skipping rope. They were all dressed in an old-fashioned way, the girls in pure white dresses with pink and yellow ribbons in their hair, and the boy with a grey trouser, a white shirt, a dark green slipover and even a small necktie. The girls were singing the song over and over again while the boy was skipping between them.

When Sarah came closer, walking across the green grass, the children interrupted their play and stared at her.

"Hello!" greeted Sarah them smiling, "How are you?"

The two girls giggled childish, whereas the boy said with a black look: "You better go! He's home!"

He pointed to the neat white house behind him. It had a red door, windows with pretty curtains and a green roof, and its house number showed 1428. Freddy's house. Sarah glanced at the house. She was somewhat surprised to see it in such a good condition, after what she had seen in her last nightmare she had expected it to look more rotten and decayed. _Perhaps this is how it looked before. Before it became the home of a dream demon with a propensity to gore, trash and filthiness. _

"Don't be afraid, lad. I have an appointment with Freddy. He's awaiting me." Sarah said and turned back to the three children, letting out an appalled scream in the next moment. The three kids, which had been so pretty and neat one moment before, were now overflowed with shimmering blood and awfully mutilated. One of the girls had her eyes displaced, leaving only two dreadful empty holes. One of her ears was missing, the other looked as if someone had brutally ripped off the earring. Her throat was cut, pulsating blood still flowing out of the deep gash. Both arms seemed to be broken, as well as all fingers, which stuck out in grotesque angels. Furthermore, there were deep slashes all over her body, slashes only one weapon could cause: Freddy's razor glove. The second girl had the same slash marks on her body. In addition to that her right wrist was broken, her hand dangling loose on it. The fingernails of her left hand had been pulled out violently, and from the bruised fingers blood was still dropping. But the worst was her belly. Ripped open with an unbelievable force her guts were gushing out like a slimily and horrible stinking hose. The boy, however, was the most disgusting of all three. Besides the characteristic slashes his arms and chest were skinned, so that the raw bloody flesh and even some muscles were visible. His face was completely burned, leaving nothing left but black carbonized tissue in a vague human form.

"We are his children! Come and join us!" said the eyeless girl and started to tumble blindly towards Sarah, followed by her two dead playmates which started to sing Freddy's song again. In utter shock Sarah stumbled back, trying hard not to puke on the lawn as her stomach revolted badly in face of such cruel mutilations. _Oh my god, they are his victims, the ones he killed when he was still alive! He tortured them to death!_

Whirling around as fast as she could she ran terrified to the Elm Street house, barely noticing that is was not clean and tidy anymore but near-derelict with nailed up windows, rotten walls and a holey roof. The door was already open, and so she stormed right into the house, slamming the door so hard behind her that it trembled in the door frame. Resting against the shut door and breathing heavily she tried to calm down again, but then she noticed the hammering bass drum of some awesome earpiercing music coming from the living room. To Sarah it sounded like some kind of heavy metal, nothing she preferred to hear, especially not in such a full volume. Slowly she walked through the dusty hall, stopping only brief in front of the door to the living room before she took a deep breath, opened it and entered the room.

The deafening music hit her almost immediately, making her cover her ears with her hands, but since she was still holding the two discs in one hand it was kind of difficult. Hastily she scanned the room for Freddy, but he wasn't there. The only noticeable thing she saw was the hi-fi system responsible for this horrible noise standing in one corner of the room. With a few steps she crossed the room and pressed the stop button of the CD-player. Instantly the terrible din was replaced by wonderful silence. Sighing with relief Sarah uncovered her ears, when suddenly a steel bladed hand grabbed her at her shoulder.

"Who the fuck allowed you to shut off the music, bitch?" snarled the deep, guttural voice of Freddy Krueger right behind her. Startled Sarah dropped the computer discs and spun around.

"Damn, Freddy, you scared me almost do death!" she shouted and bent down to pick up the discs again. Freddy, who was dressed in his usual attire, closed up dangerously near and grinned mischievously:

"Too bad only almost. And by the way, coozie, you're late, again."

"Oh sorry that I didn't materialize right into your homey living place, but I had to walk down two blocks, and when I finally got here I was hold up by your cute little welcome committee outside before they turned into some horrible mutilated corpses, which I can tell you was the most disgusting thing I ever saw. Anyway, you can now go on with arguing, insulting me like usually, or you can let me start working on your computer before the night is over and I awake again. So?"

Sarah crossed her arms and gave Freddy a questioning look. Freddy scowled back at her, tapping restless with his blades against his chest as if he had to fight back the urgent need to thrust them deep into her stomach. But finally he stepped aside and grumbled: "Go ahead!"

Walking over to the already running computer Sarah put some of the trash aside that was still all around the messed up table, then she put one of the discs in the CD-ROM drive. The screen and menus looked all a bit different than she was used to, not to mention the crudity of the background picture showing a bound and terrible beaten up naked woman. But after some trying she got along with the system and restarted it.

"What are you doing now?" asked Freddy, who had followed her to the computer. Without turning away from the rebooting machine Sarah explained: "I want to do a complete virus scan, but since the whole system is infected I have to start the computer from my clean disc to remove all malicious stuff."

She waited until the rescuing operating system from her disc had finished to load, then she started the first virus scan. Almost immediately there were several alerts, which counted up to more than three hundred in just a few minutes.

"Well, this will take some time." said Sarah and leaned back in the chair. Freddy however frowned and asked impatiently: "Some time? Can't you make this fucking thing work faster? Or at least do something else in the damn meantime?"

Shaking her head Sarah replied: "No, sorry, we have to wait. I know that patience is none of your virtues, but I can't do anything until the scan is finished. But we… we can just talk awhile in the meanwhile."

"Talk?" Freddy gave her a look that left no doubt how silly he found her idea, "I don't talk, I kill!"

"Sure, I know. But right now you ain't killing anyone, especially not me. So what's the deal if we just talk a bit?"

"The deal is that I would have to talk to you sassy nag then, and hell, I have absolutely no desire for that!"

By saying this Freddy turned around and walked over to the couch, where he plugged on the video game console to the television and started to play his favorite Spencer-game. Sarah watched him a while from the distance, but the game he was playing seemed to her just mean and nasty, and so she concentrated back onto the computer and checked the progress of the virus scan.

About half an hour later, notwithstanding the fact that time in dreams wasn't as constant as in reality, the scan was finally completed. The result went even beyond Sarah's worst expectations, showing about ten thousand infected files with a total of about a hundred and fifty different computer viruses, trojans, worms and other spyware.

"Uh, Freddy?" Sarah called, interrupting Freddy in his crazy game.

"What, bitch?" he shouted back, still busy fighting the poor Spencer guy on the television screen.

"Well, the scan is done. And I think you better come and have a look at this!"

With an angry groaning Freddy threw the game controller aside and came over to Sarah.

"Now, brat, what is it that I have to give up my game only two hundred fucking points away from a new record?"

Sarah ignored his rude tone and pointed to the computer screen instead.

"See, you got more than ten thousand infected files on your computer, and my anti-virus program removed most of them. But unfortunately this is not enough, because when there is still just one virus left it will start to spread again, ending in the same disastrous result as before."

"So do you wanna tell me that all the damn waiting was for nothing, and that you, my so-called computer expert, aren't able to fix my system? 'Cause that would be too bad for you, you know?" said Freddy obviously annoyed and fanned out his blades in a threatening gesture. Quickly Sarah raised her hands.

"No, no, no! I'm not saying that I can't repair your computer. I'm just telling that it will be more difficult than I thought. I'll have to do a complete new installation of your system."

"A new installation? Does it go fast or…?" asked Freddy and twitched with his steel blades in the prospect of a chance for an early kill.

"Well, that depends. If you have already made a backup of your personal files and if you have the original installation discs right here, then it will probably take only some hours. But otherwise…" Sarah didn't speak any further but gave him a broad smile, knowing only too well that it was more than unlikely that Freddy had already done these things and that she was destroying his anticipation of killing her right now. The piercing glance of Freddy and the curses he mumbled through his gritted teeth hence proved her that she was right.

"I don't have any damned fucking discs!" he finally avowed. Sarah had almost expected this, nothing on Freddy's computer seemed to be legally obtained – not very astonishing considering the fact that there were hardly any official computer stores in the dream world or in hell.

"Why am I not surprised by that?" she asked herself rhetorical and ejected her disc from the computer drive, "Okay, then I have to bring my own discs tomorrow night and we continue then."

She wanted to stand up, but Freddy grabbed her on her shoulders and pressed her back on the chair, running his blades deceptively soft over her neck while hissing raspy: "You aren't just playing for time, are you? 'Cause if I find out that all this crap isn't necessary then I'll make sure that you will look much worse than the three beauties from outside, got it?"

The cold touch of metal on her skin gave Sarah the creeps, and unwillingly a slight tremor sneaked into her voice as she said: "I got it. But believe me, I can imagine much better ways of spending my dreams than working on a totally damaged system while you are constantly insulting and threatening me! So please, if you don't object, I'd like to go now and wake up!"

She wriggled out of his grip, took her discs and stepped aside, but then she turned around to Freddy again and asked: "How can I wake up willfully by myself? I don't want to sit somewhere, doing nothing, until I wake up some time eventually."

With a mocking chuckle Freddy swaggered slowly to her, circling around her like a tiger around his prey.

"You can't, bitch, you haven't the dream power for that. However, there is one way to wake up…"

"Which way?" asked Sarah uneasy. Freddy stopped right behind her, his horrible blemished face so close to her side that she couldn't see the perverted grin on it as he whispered in her ear:

"Pain!"

In the next moment, before Sarah could even move a muscle, he poked one of his razor knifes deep into her right shoulder. Sarah screamed with pain as warm blood started to run down her arm, and with the cruel cackling laughter of Freddy in her ears she woke up and vanished from the dream world at last.


	10. Being the operator from hell

**_Author's note: _**I decided to split this chapter. The first part contains two new emails straight from our favorite dream demon's email-inbox. The second part is the sequel of Sarah's "adventures" she's encountering as Freddy's computer support administrator. A special thanks goes to KrazyKatKrueger for her support and for all the hours of funny chatting! I hope you like the surprise! And, as promised, another special thanks to seaweedprincess/Tuesday Mourning for her suggestions of Freddy's personal computer stuff.

* * *

_  
From: psych.helpdeskspringwood-high.org_

_To: fred.kruegerhell.com_

_Subject_: You need help

Dear Mr. Krueger (or whatever your real name is),

It has come to the attention of our schools psychological advisor council that you have been sending emails to several of our students. The abusive language you're using in your emails and the fact that you are pretending to be an abominable and also dead criminal gives me great cause for concern.

From my professional experience I assume that your aggressive and hostile attitude stems from an unsolved Oedipus complex back in your childhood. According to the great psychoanalyst Freud the aggression against others often originates from a projection of auto-aggression towards other people, mainly due to a low self-esteem and the inability to identify with the father figure, which leads to a regression on the oral-sadistic development stage.

Your sexual offending wording is also a sign of a deep neurotic conflict, and the disguise as a previous terrific murderer can only be understood as a profound identity problem. All this leads me to the conclusion that you're probably suffering from an early development personality disorder, which in my opinion badly needs a psychoanalytic therapy treatment.

I highly recommend that you contact a psychiatrist or at least your family doctor. I also have to alert you that any further email to our students containing inappropriate language like insults, threats and sexual harassments will not be tolerated by the school board and therefore consecutively prosecuted.

Sincerely,

Agatha McFinney, Psychiatrist M.D.

(Psychological advisor of Springwood High)

_  
From: fred.kruegerhell.com_

_To: psych.helpdeskspringwood-high.org_

_Subject_: Re: You need help

Who asked you for your opinion, bitch? The last thing in hell I need is another shrink who thinks she knows me! You don't know any fucking thing about me! I _am_ Freddy Krueger, and I don't give a fuck if you believe me or not who I am! All your psycho-babbling is nothing but bullshit. There have been other damned know-it-alls before trying to analyze and therapy me, but they all fucked it up 'cause I was stronger. They thought they had worn me down, turned me into a miserable wimp, but I mucked them all around! I am forever Freddy Krueger, bastard of a hundred maniacs and famous serial killer of this damn town!!!

So save me your blather and your ridiculous threats, you stupid jerk, for there is no fucking way in hell that you can stop me! Neither from responding to every nagging piggy who dares to write me, nor from killing those brats in their next dreams!

Now shut up and fuck off!

The one and only Freddy Krueger!

-----------------------------------------------

_From: superschizogirlyahoo.co.uk_

_To: fred.kruegerhell.com_

_Subject_: Hi!

Dear Freddy.

My name is Polly and I'm a 21 year old irish girl. I'm writing to you because I'm such a big fan of you. Don't get me wrong, I don't agree with what you are doing to the innocent children of Springwood, but besides I think you're the greatest undead serial killer in hell. Nobody kills so gory like you, and your razor glove is the most awesome weapon I've ever seen. Jason V., Chucky, Michael M. and all the other maniac killers are completely lamers compared to you!

I've collected every article about you and every picture of you I could get, and I even wrote a bunch of fanfics about you on www.fanfiction.net. I know you're probably giving a shit about me, that's okay, but nevertheless I want to ask you a favor:

I've attached one of my favorite pictures of you to this email. Could you pleeeaase sign it for me? I would be thankful forever if I could get an autograph from you!

Thanks in advance!

Polly

P.S.: My postal address is Paula Sapphire, 26 Gorse Road, Twocreek, BT11 0DR Belfast, Northern Ireland.   
(_Author's note_: you don't expect this to be a real address, do you? Well, of course it's not!)

Attachment: kruegerpic.jpg

_  
From: fred.kruegerhell.com_

_To: superschizogirlyahoo.co.uk_

_Subject: _Re: Hi

Great, another bitch who thinks I'm nothing more than a damn celebrity! You're right, I'm giving a fuck about you, and no, I will certainly not sign any stupid autograph! If you were an Elm Street child I'd pay you a little visit, slice you up and write my name with your blood on the wall. That would be the only autograph I'd give to anyone who is so daft to ask me.

Go and choose another prick to pester, nag, and tell all your silly friends that they can stick their yucky fan-stuff right up into their fat asses!

Freddy K.

P.S.: Ok, the only thing you're right is that I _AM_ way much better than JV, MM and all the other half-assed pricks! I am eternal!

* * *

**_Dream world_**

"What the heck is that?" said Sarah in noticeably rebuking tone and pointed to the new blinking advertisement taskbar on Freddy's computer screen, "You've been online again, haven't you?"

It was the next night – the next dream respectively – and Sarah had just begun to continue with her work on Freddy's computer. Freddy Krueger, infamous nightmare slasher and dream demon in person, was sitting right next to her, watching closely every step she did. Now he crossed his arms and gave her a defiant look.

"So what? You didn't say I mustn't do that!" he snarled.

Sarah screwed her eyes and sighed.

"I didn't know that I have to! But apparently I was too blue eyed to assume that you'd be careful enough not to infect your system again with some new crap while I'm trying to fix that infernal machine."

"Be careful what you're saying, bitch! You'd better not tick me off!"

Freddy fanned out his razor glove in a menacing gesture, much to Sarah's disfavor. But she resisted the urge to shift aside on her chair, for she didn't want to give Freddy the satisfaction of seeing her wince. Thus, instead of backing away from the sharp blades she crossed her arms the same way he did before and snapped back:

"Great, you of all people say that! All the emails and dreams, and you're still calling me names! Do you even know my real name, uh?"

"Do you really think I'd care about your name? Usually I kill brats like you at once, so why should I waste my time memorizing their names?"

"Because… because…" started Sarah heatedly, not knowing how to continue, but then she suddenly stroke on an idea: "Because you are proud of it! You know what? I believe you know indeed the names of all your victims, even of the very first one, just because you are so proud of every single disgusting kill!"

Freddy gave her a fiery look, twitching his blades fidgety so that they made tiny clicking noises, before he finally grinned wickedly.

"Yeah… Her name was Alice! She was such a pretty six year old little girl. Well, of course before I've been done with her."

He closed his eyes for a moment in the thrilling and satisfying memory of the day that started his career as a dreaded child serial killer. Sarah watched him in a morbid fascination. She had never seen anyone before who showed so clearly his sadistic pleasure about the pain or death of others. The idea that he got excited, perhaps even sexually aroused, by torturing and murdering little children was beyond her understanding and made her sick.

"Could we please change the topic and focus on your computer again?" she suggested slightly annoyed.

"Aw! C'mon, don't you wanna know what I did to sweet Alice? How I turned her soft and clean body into a bloody chunk of meat?" Freddy replied, grinning even more twisted as Sarah shook her head quickly in disgust.

"No thanks, spare me the details or you have to fix your computer on your own cause I'm gonna puke all over the floor."

Freddy shrugged his shoulders unheedingly. "Prude bitch!" he hissed provoking.

"Sick Pervert!" Sarah retorted just as cheeky.

Scowling at one another each of them waited for the other to continue the insults, but as the silence grew longer and longer they both slowly started to grin, knowing that this time they were just teasing each other. At last Sarah broke the silence and said:

"Okay, since we don't have endless time tonight I really suggest that we go on with your computer now."

She opened her blue Eastpak backpack, which was standing beside her chair, and began to ransack it. Commemorating her previous experiences with Freddy's computer she had brought almost a dozen computer discs containing any useful program she might need into her dream. In addition she had taken some operation system starting floppy discs, an external CD-burner together with a couple of blank CD's and some user manuals with her. Now she brushed aside some of the garbage that was still spread over the filthy desk and placed a couple of her discs on the table. After inserting the topmost disc into the cd-rom drive she typed some quick commands on the keyboard.

"And what exactly are you doing now?" Freddy asked curiously after he had watched her for some time. Sarah pointed to a program on the screen, which showed detailed information of the computer's hardware, and explained:

"Well, I'm running a short hard disc analysis as I want to see how I best make a fresh install after formatting the disc."

"Formatting?"

"Deleting everything that is on it. Remember, I said I would have to do a clean install, and that means I have to erase the whole old system."

"But that would delete all my por… eh… personal stuff, wouldn't it?" asked Freddy back.

"Yes, it would. That's the reason why I asked you the last night if you have already done a backup of your personal files…" nodded Sarah, but when she saw Freddy's bewildered look she added sighing: "… and what you, of course, still haven't done, right?"

Impassively Freddy shook his head.

"Remember? I'm the serial murderer, you're the computer geek! Doing this kind of stuff is your part of the deal we made. Mine was just to let you live for the moment – though I still can't believe that I actually agreed to this fateful deal."

"Trust me, there are moments when I can't believe it either. However, since you haven't done the backup yet then we have to do it now. And this means we will go through every folder and every program of your computer, search for any saved data and decide what to backup and what do delete. So, let's start with the 'my documents folder'."

Smirking somewhat smugly Sarah unhesitantly opened the respective folder on Freddy's computer, whereas Freddy let out a loud, unwilling groan and rested his head in his left hand while tapping visibly annoyed with the other, bladed hand on the table. It seemed as if this was going to be a very long and boring night!

**_  
Dream world, about an hour later_**

"Freddy, don't! Please!"

Rather stressed snatched Sarah her Microsoft windows user manual away from Freddy, who was just going to shred it to pieces with his razor glove, and put it back into her backpack. Working on the backup was hard enough – due to Freddy's non existent data organization it was a very extensive task – but working together with a bored Freddy was even harder. In the last hour he had almost constantly teased her, insulted her with swear-words she didn't even know they existed, pricked her with the tip of his blades in her side and on her already hurt shoulder and 'entertained' her with a colorful description of what he would like to do to her if he hadn't promised to let her live for now.

But Freddy's personal stuff itself took the biscuit at last, as it consisted almost solely of things for which Sarah was not only too young but also too sane: a huge collection of pornographic S/M- and bondage pictures, a not much smaller picture collection of dreadful mutilated and dead children and adults, a bunch of heavy metal mp3 music files, and some strange word documents whose titles suggested that they contained information about Freddy's previous victims. Apart from this nasty stuff were some extreme violent games installed on the computer, one a known ego-shooter called 'Counter Strike – Serial Killer Mod', the other, 'Humiliation: Massacre II', was unknown to Sarah. Both games were obviously pirate copies, and it took Sarah about fifteen minutes to convince Freddy that she wasn't able to make backups from the installed games and that he had to reinstall them after the fresh windows installation, provided that he would get the game installation discs again from somebody.

While Sarah was still scanning the hard disc for more files to backup Freddy idly stared into space for some time. Deprived of something he could destroy, but still feeling bored out of his mind he sought for something else to play with, finally turning again toward Sarah. Placing his gloved right hand seemingly casual on his left knee he slowly came up with the sharp blades to Sarah's right leg, peeking secretly if she had already noticed his movements. Only inches separated the dangerous knifes from Sarah's leg, and the expectation of drawing some blood made him take a deep breath, when suddenly, without even turning around, Sarah said warningly:

"Don't even think about it! I'm watching you closely, so take your glove-thingy away from my leg!"

"Fuck!" hissed Freddy disappointed and put his hand back again, starting almost immediately to saw with his index blade into the wooden table desk. It was quite evident that he was so bored that it was just a matter of minutes before he would try again to hurt her. Sighing loud Sarah finally interrupted her work and said:

"Listen, Freddy! Why don't you go somewhere else? Go into the dream of someone else, kill someone, whatever, but leave me alone so that I can finish this!"

The mention of killing someone conjured up an eager glow into Freddy's eyes, and a vicious smile slowly played about his burned lips.

"Yeah, you're right. A nice, bloody kill is just what I need now!"

He stood up enthusiastically, put the fedora that had lain on the table back on his head and fanned out his blades, but then he stopped again and asked worried:

"How can I be sure that you won't overlook anything else of my stuff, or delete it accidentally?"

"I'll promise to watch out. If I find something and it's yucky, disgusting, gorey and absolutely horrible, I'll keep it. Okay?"

Pondering over her suggestion Freddy tilted his head to the left for a few seconds, before he straightened up and smirked again.

"Okay! I'll be back soon, so don't wake up!" he called. Then he just vanished, leaving nothing but a tiny puff of red smoke.

Staring at the point where the maniac killer has been standing just a few seconds ago Sarah sighed once again and murmured:

"Gee, did I really say 'kill someone'? As if I had to encourage him for that."

The idea of being responsible for another Elm Street murder, even when it was just in such an indirect way, displeased her much. So she concentrated back on the work with Freddy's computer and continued searching for anymore of his personal files.


	11. Don't trust the chair

_**Dream world, another half an hour later**_

Satisfied with her work Sarah disconnected the external CD-burner and placed the last of the backup discs she had created for Freddy's personal stuff on top of two other discs already lying on the table. She had eventually finished the backup! Next she started the formatting process, after which she would then proceed with the new system installation. Freddy had not returned yet, maybe his homicidal hunt didn't go as fast as planned, or maybe he was taking his time, making the most of the suffering of his victim. However, Sarah was thankful for any minute she could work alone, without being threatened and insulted again and again.

Stretching on the scruffy and rather uncomfortable chair Sarah reached out for her backpack, which was standing to her left on the floor. But before she could even touch it a cracking sound came from the old chair, as it all of a sudden collapsed right under her butt. With a loud "Ouch!" she crashed on the hard floor. After a short moment of shock she realized that she was luckily not hurt. Pushing the broken chair aside she got on her feet again, letting out another painful shout as she banged her head against the edge of the table. The impact was so hard that several piles of trash as well as her new made backup discs slumped to the ground.

"Damn!"

Holding her aching head she crawled back and stood up slowly, this time looking carefully not to bang her head again. She ignored the trash on the ground – mostly empty cans, fast food wrappings and other garbage – and simply picked up the backups discs. Luckily the discs itself were not damaged, but one of the disc covers was broken so the disc was no longer held in its place.

"Great. First the chair and now that! I hate this dream so much…" she mumbled under her breath. A side glance at the computer screen showed her that the formatting process was finished, and so she pulled the second chair on which Freddy had sat before to her side and sat down, but not without first testing the stability of this chair by pushing the seat several times up and down. One crash on the ground per dream was undoubtedly more than enough. With a few handles she initialized the installation of the new fresh Windows operating system and watched the slow progress for some time. But after a while she got bored and grabbed the broken disc cover again. Maybe she could find something to fix it, some tape or glue.

Resolutely she stood up and walked slowly through the room.

"Hm… let's see… if I were a maniac child killing dream demon, where would I put in the scotch tape?"

Glancing over the dusty and rotten furniture Sarah's view stopped at a chest of drawers standing at the left wall near the door. With a few steps she approached it and was just about to open the topmost drawer, but then she stopped. Maybe she could find some tape in there, but maybe she would find something different… something gross and terrible? After all it was Freddy's home, and he wasn't really that kind of homemaker. Besides, he would surely be mad at her if he found her snooping around in his stuff. With the hand already on the knob of the drawer she hesitated, looking quickly around her for any signs of Freddy. But the king of nightmares was still missing. _The heck with it_, she thought_, I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm just looking for some tape, something I wouldn't have to do if his stupid chair hasn't crashed._

And by thinking this she opened the drawer with a vigorous tug.

"Oh.... my.... god!"

Sarah let out a shout of disbelief and disrelish as she starred at the content of the wooden drawer: dozens of knifes! Long and short knifes, thin and thick knifes. Rusty knifes, bloodstained knifes, knifes with the tip broken off, twisted knifes. Some of them without the haft, others already welded with metal knuckles. And there were also pieces of copper and metal plates, and some leather gloves. Obviously this was Freddy's spare parts inventory.

"Great. If I had wanted to build my own razor glove this would be my golden opportunity. But all I need is just duct tape!"

Shaking her head she closed the top drawer, then, with bated breath, she opened the second drawer and darted a short look in it. This time there were no knifes – this time it was worse. The drawer was filled with old, greasy pornographic magazines. Not the high quality playboy kind, but the most disgusting scum Sarah had ever seen. It was sadomasochistic and inhuman trash, but to make it even worse they were all covered with vulgar comments, lines and cigarette fire holes, making the already abhorrent posing women look like they were tortured.

"Ewwww! This is so sick!"

Without any further look Sarah closed the drawer again. Of course she knew that Freddy was a perverted bastard, but she had had no idea how pervy he really was. With growing reluctance she peered at the third drawer. Her need for abominable things was more than satisfied for tonight, but on the other hand it could barely get any more appalling than it already was. With a deep sigh she finally opened the third drawer.

"Hey, there you go!"

With a triumphant shout Sarah grabbed a piece of scotch tape that was laying between some office stuff like pens and pencils, rubbers, a bottle with all-purpose glue and several paper notebooks. With three short pieces of tape she fixed the broken disc cover, then she threw the tape roll back into the drawer and was just about to close the drawer, when she suddenly saw something under one of the notebooks. Something she had never ever expected to find in Freddy's house: a bible.

Puzzled Sarah took the black leather book and ran over the pages. She anticipated that the bible was similar disgraced as the porn before, but much to her surprise it was intact and unscathed. On the first page was a handwritten dedication: _To Fred. __Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer (Romans, 12,12). In sincere love, Sister Mary Helena. August 1951._

By reading the dedication Sarah's surprise turned into absolute astonishment. Could it be? Could it really be possible that this bible was a present of Freddy's mother? But why would Freddy keep it then, considering the profound hate for his mother he had once shown in their chat session? Too bad she couldn't ask Freddy himself, but it was more than likely that he would rather kill her instantly than explain why he kept the bible.

With a half suppressed sigh Sarah closed the bible and was just putting it carefully back on its place, when she noticed a corner of a picture that was protruding from the notebook above the bible. Curiously she flipped the notebook open, revealing a bunch of old photographs lying between some pages of the notebook.

"This is getting weirder and weirder!" Sarah mumbled while looking at the first picture. It was a portrait picture, showing a stern looking boy about ten years old. Although the picture was black and white like all the others Sarah guessed that the boy's hair was blonde. She wondered if this was a picture of one of Freddy's victims, but somehow she was not convinced of it. Again she took a close look of the boy on the picture. The plain woolen sweater he was wearing was too loose, giving him quite a poor appearance. He looked so serious and sad and... lost. His eyes, though, were someway familiar. And then, all at once, it hit her. This was not one of Freddy's victims, this was Freddy himself, as a young boy!

"God, he looks so small!", Sarah thought with a rush of emotion. But before she could survey the picture any longer she heard a sudden sound from behind her. Frightened Sarah jumped up like a shot. In desperate hurry she closed the drawer with a push of her feet, staring for one moment at the bunch of photos in her hand before she hastily put them in her back pocket. Then she spun around, reckoning in fear to see Freddy with his deadly razor glove raised, ready to kill her for snooping around in his private stuff.

But Freddy was not there.

Sarah was so relieved that she laughed nervously, when suddenly another sound came from the opposite direction. Again she turned around, screaming appalled as she saw a female corpse standing right behind her. The cruel mutilations and the deep parallel cuts all over her bloody body proved her as one of Freddy's victims. Although there was not much left from her face – the eyes were missing, showing nothing but bloody eye holes, the nose was smashed and half of the face was skinned – Sarah recognized her from a memorial picture in school. Her name was Paula, she had been one of Valerie's best friends and had been killed in her sleep only two and a half months ago. Now the abhorrent figure of what was once a happy teenager raised her blood-soaked hand and waved to Sarah.

"Ssss...aaaa....rrrr....aaaa...hhh!" the corpse called with a zombie-voice like in one of these cheap horror flicks, blood spilling out of her mouth at every syllable.

Although Sarah knew that the dreadful dead girl was nothing more than a bogey trick to get her scared, an announcement of Freddy's approaching return, she felt her stomach revolting and shook her head in disgust while slowly backing off.

"You're not here. You're not real. It's just a dream!"

Unfortunately the not-so-real dead girl didn't care that she wasn't here and started stumbling toward Sarah. She took some more steps backwards, when suddenly she got grabbed by four sharp blades from behind her. With a high pitched scream Sarah spun around, facing Freddy who had appeared right out of nowhere. He smirked.

"Missed me, nosey?"

"Damn!" Sarah shouted, quickly turning her head to the direction where the corpse of Paula had been standing, but she was gone, "You're such a prick, you know?"

"You're welcome!" replied Freddy malicious, his razor talons still grasping her tight at her shoulder. Fresh blood was glinting on the sharp blades, leaving clammy red streaks on Sarah's pajama. With an angry gesture she pushed his gloved hand aside and checked the blood stains on the tissue.

"Great. You ruined my pajama. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get this blood out of the fabric?"

Freddy fanned out his talons and wagged his bladed index finger at Sarah.

"Ts-Ts-Ts. You'd better be glad that it's not your own blood. But it will be yours if you don't hold your cheeky tongue, bitch! Besides, why aren't you working on the frigging computer, eh?"

"I am! Or at least I was until you came up with your little zombie show." replied Sarah with her best poker face and picked up the backup disc that was still laying on the ground. Without turning a hair she went back to the computer desk.

"God, how I missed this lovely atmosphere of threats and insults!" she mumbled low on the way, but loud enough that Freddy, who was following her, could hear it. He snarled and twitched edgy with his blades, but luckily for Sarah he could just control his homicidal impulses. Reaching the desk Sarah nodded toward the broken chair.

"Look at this trash! Your bloody chair crashed right under my ass. How am I supposed to work here when your rotten furniture is a danger to anyone who is so unwary to use it?"

"Fucking hell, you're such a pathetic wimp!"

Freddy made a flipping gesture with his bladed hand, and with a sudden 'plop' the chair pieces got reassembled on their own. However, it looked as rotten and unstable as before the crash, and so Sarah took the second chair, ignored Freddy's hissed "chicken" and sat down.

"Okay, see, the installation of the operating system is done. Your computer is now free of any viruses or trojans."

Sarah demonstrated the functionality of the system by starting and closing several standard programs. By doing this she noticed that there was already an internet connection configured – maybe there was some kind of wireless LAN in this dream hell place – and therefore she added:

"Don't go online until I say so, okay? You'll only get some new viruses. But you can use anything else, play some card game or whatever you like."

"Yeah, okay. So that's it? You're through with my computer?" said Freddy impatiently, his eager tone of voice hardly concealing his bloody-minded intentions.

"Ho-ho, stop it! I know you can't await to kill me, but not so fast!" replied Sarah quickly, "I said I'm done with the operating system. But I have neither done the installation of your programs nor restored the backup of your personal data."

She held up the jewel case of the backup disc.

"Damn!" cursed Freddy and kicked frustrated against one of the table-legs, causing everything on the table to tremble.

Sarah wanted to say something, but then she felt a warm prickle all over her body. She raised her hand and saw it slowly becoming translucent.

"I'm awakening!" she stated, not caring that Freddy could already feel her vanishing presence. Hurried she snatched her bagpack from the ground and threw all of her stuff inside it. Then the dream world faded into black.

* * *

_Author's note: _My apologies that it took me so long to complete this chapter. I hope you enjoyed reading it anyway. A special greeting goes out to KrazyKatKrueger, Tuesday Mourning and Demona Triple H. And of course to all of my readers that like my story. :-D  



End file.
